Tuesday, December 22, 2015

100 Words a Day 754

Hot spittle streamed from the horse’s mouth. I clung to her mane and squeezed her trunk with my legs, relying on her to follow the lead rider. Behind me I could hear the thundering hooves of our pursuers. I chanced a look over my shoulder. The rough men had faces I couldn’t believe. The closest had one high cheek and one low. His eyes were too big for his head. I will never forget the midnight pools of his pupils, trying to suck me into their gaze during my glance backwards. I closed my eyes when I heard him scream.

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